


Prisoners of Our Own Device

by miraclemoon



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Canon Universe, Explicit Sexual Content, Hannibal is super into this okay, M/M, Manipulation, Obsessive Hannibal Lecter, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Part of Will's plan in seducing Hannibal, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Rude Will Graham, Season 2, Will Graham is a Tease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 02:48:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13515102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraclemoon/pseuds/miraclemoon
Summary: “You mentioned before you want to cook me dinner. To what lengths would you go to attain this?” Will asks.Blood and bone,Hannibal reflects, drowning in the wickedness of Will’s gaze.My body and soul resting upon silver platters, meat raging with the desire to appease. An offering to fuel your radiance, to feed your fire until they surge into ravenous flames.The air shifts as Hannibal steps forward, wine untouched in his hand. The corner of his lip twitches upward into a smirk, fascinated by Will’s ploy."Do surprise me, dear Will.”So Will does.“If you can make me come before I finish my glass, I’ll let you cook me dinner.”****In which Will's seduction of Hannibal takes a very overt turn.





	Prisoners of Our Own Device

**Author's Note:**

> 2018 is wild, she got me writing Hannigram fanfic. That was unexpected. Honestly this was all inspired with the thought of Will casually sipping a glass of wine while Hannibal is on his knees. So enjoy if that's your thing! 
> 
> _To everyone who follows me for Stucky content and is wondering where in el fuck chap 4 is for All Things Will Unwind, it has not been forgotten or abandoned!!! I'm just garbage and uninspired! My baby has not been forgotten I promise._
> 
> 2/2 update: decided to include this into the Fresh Meat Friday collection after being rec'd on tumblr by the lovely [littlethingwithfeathers](http://littlethingwithfeathers.tumblr.com/). thanks deary!
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

Will enters into Hannibal’s office at their designated time, a few wayward strands of hair curling especially enthusiastically at the nape of his neck. They exchange quick greetings, and as he steps inside, he drags in the heady scent of rainfall and fresh soil into Hannibal’s office, immediately piquing the man’s interest. They are true compliments to Will’s unique earthy scent, and Hannibal cannot resist following a step too close to Will, if only to submerge himself into the man’s essence.

He watches Will navigate through his office and sets his coat onto an empty chair, bringing his hands up to smooth through his damp hair. If Hannibal stares at the stretch of Will’s shirt as it pulls across his shoulders, fabric taut and accentuating the curve of his spine, he doesn’t say anything. Hannibal admires the exposed strip of skin at Will’s nape, fantasizes of holding Will’s neck between his jaws just to watch his blood spill across his lovely skin. He assumes it would look much like wine sinking into fine linen, or even paint spilling unto a fresh canvas, new life birthed across miles of pale, milky skin.

Hannibal appreciates Will’s form for a moment longer before finally tearing his gaze away, approaching his cabinet to occupy himself with something more conducive than his mindless gawking, as beautiful as Will is tonight.

“Are you feeling red or white wine tonight?”

Will turns to glance at him, and Hannibal can see the moisture of rainwater gleam against his fingers, how tantalizingly supple they look against his blood hot skin.

“Offer me your favorite,” Will answers.

Hannibal purses his lips for a moment before making a decision, taking out two bordeaux glasses and filling them with a classic staple in his office. “I do not typically keep Masseto Toscano in my office, though I hope this will suffice. A Cabernet Sauvignon from Chile, ripened for many years in the Casa Silva estate. I anticipate the blackcurrant and traces of mint to be compatible with your palate.”

Will watches Hannibal pour the wine and slowly approaches, meeting Hannibal half way as he gingerly reaches for the stem of the glass. Their fingers don’t brush during the exchange, but Will can feel the remnants of Hannibal’s heat linger on the crystalware, so hypervigilant of its presence that it nearly burns him. He almost wishes it would, if only to keep another permanent reminder of Hannibal’s hold on him.

He takes a sip of his wine and lets it marinate on his tongue, enjoying it with a patience he didn’t formerly own. He swallows purposely, and allows himself to breath in the rich aroma. For all of Hannibal’s meticulous obsessions, the man has good taste in his wine selection. He doesn’t catch Hannibal staring as he drinks, though that is completely by choice. He enjoys the form of foreplay they’ve established, is delighted in how easy it is to pull a reaction from a man who prides himself on self-control. Will won’t deny that he enjoys the thrill that comes from denying Hannibal eye contact, or how vigilant either man is of the other, as if it is second nature to drink in every sound or response the other makes and match it with the same ferocity. Though he stumbled a bit at first, Will now steps with confidence as they dance around each other, boundaries quickly blurring during this mutual courtship.

Tonight, however, Will deviates from their routine and presses for more.

“Would you consider yourself a gambling man, Doctor Lecter?"

Hannibal gingerly places his bottle of wine back into the cabinet, securing the cork to keep his sauvignon fresh. When he turns to face Will, the younger man withholds eye contact as he steps towards his desk, curiosity leading him forward as he nudges a pencil and scalpel away to finger through Hannibal’s newest drawings. Will recognizes the architecture, takes note that he has yet to finish the intricate details which adorn the Chartres Cathedral’s most clerestory windows, and how underdeveloped Hannibal left the infrastructure of the northern tower. Even so, it harbors the fruits of an artist who has continued to refine his skills for decades, and Will would expect nothing less from the therapist. Will’s eyes wander through the sketch, and the bareness of Hannibal’s drawing is quickly forgotten when Will gingerly skitters his fingers across the the many panels of the Rose Window, just enough to collect specs of granite across his fingertips and drag it down the planes of the building.

Hannibal watches him silently, wishing Will would just take the paper into his hands and tear it in half, for no other reason than knowing he could get away with it. It is both amazing and truly terrifying the hold Will has over him.

“To gamble implies there is something of notable value to offer,” Hannibal begins, shutting his cabinet and standing at the other side of his desk, admiring the smudge that has formed across the page as a result of Will’s ministrations. “It would be rather peculiar to object, especially when a reward presents itself. Tell me, Will. What stakes are we measuring?”

Will’s gaze is unyielding and Hannibal is the first to break contact, too fascinated in the delicate twist of Will’s wrist as he swirls his sauvignon, its dark aroma nearly drowning the room in its presence. Hannibal regrets not choosing something lighter, perhaps a pinot noir or cabernet franc, something that would not mix so heavily with Will’s scent and steal away from his overall sweetness.

“You mentioned before you want to cook me dinner.”

Hannibal nods. “It has been too long since you’ve joined me.”

“Well, prison doesn’t exactly lend itself to flexible requests. Chilton wouldn’t have been too keen on letting me out of his cage.”

Will gives him a toothy smile, and Hannibal can’t help but stare, gaze lingering on the barest glint of Will’s canine he’s revealed before his lips slowly enclose against the edge of the wine glass. He tilts his head back with grace, makes a show of exposing his neck and swallowing so Hannibal can watch the delicate juncture of his throat work as he swallows. Exposing one’s throat is often synonymous with vulnerability, submission, and yet Hannibal can only see the grandiose prowess that comes with Will Graham, how this playful display only further enforces that Hannibal is not the only predator in this room. Hannibal preens at the sight of Will’s brilliance, the way he blossoms into his veracity and teases Hannibal with each layer he reveals.

Hannibal is caught staring, and Will holds his gaze as he finishes his swig, the red wine already beginning to stain his lips. Hannibal nearly purrs at the sight. What a gift it would be to taste them.

“To what lengths would you go to attain this, Hannibal?”

_Blood and bone_ , he reflects, drowning in the wickedness of Will’s gaze. _My body and soul resting upon silver platters, meat raging with the desire to appease. An offering to fuel your radiance, to feed your fire until they surge into ravenous flames._

Will continues to swirl his wine in his glass, though he steps away from Hannibal’s desk and slowly circles into the center of Hannibal’s office, steps unhurried and deliberate. He rubs his thumb and forefinger together, perhaps in an effort to dissolve the remaining granite that clings to his skin.

The corner of Hannibal’s lip twitches upward into a smirk, fascinated by Will’s ploy.

“You are curious to uncover my boundaries, what I would consider appropriate behavior to attain this prize.” The air shifts as Hannibal steps forward, wine untouched in his hand. Will is holding his gaze so intensely that Hannibal’s eyes crinkle in delight.

“You are difficult to predict, Doctor Lecter.”

“As are you. Do surprise me, dear Will.”

So Will does.

“If you can make me come before I finish my glass, I’ll let you cook me dinner.”

Hannibal can’t resist the flare of his nostrils at the implication of it.  He watches Will with curious eyes, keeps his gaze impartial and his composure leveled, but from the quirk of Will’s brow and how he stares so easily at his prey, Hannibal knows he is being taken apart. Whereas normally he would find resentment for being read so simply, he is wholeheartedly amused by Will’s dauntless ploy, unable to resist pushing further.

“A bold wager you are offering,” Hannibal supplies, and Will watches his throat work, can hear the slight shift in Hannibal’s tone just from the mere statement. He is being so utterly obvious in his desire to engage, and though the untrained eye would not catch onto him, Will knows him too intimately, can read between the crinkles of his eyes or the folds of his lips with searing confidence. It makes Hannibal’s mouth water, finding someone of equal footing and knowing they too enjoy such games.

“I’m not one for elusivity, though that isn’t exactly an answer, Hannibal. I didn’t expect you to tiptoe around cat-and-mouse games.”

Hannibal’s back straightens, and he makes his way around the desk, approaching their center stage. Will stares at him easily, though Hannibal can see the challenge in his eyes.

“In my office.” he supplies, and Will merely shrugs.

“Unorthodox for a patient.”

“You are not my patient.”

Hannibal can only describe Will’s responding smirk as entirely wicked. “No, I’m not.”

Hannibal’s chest swells. The closer he steps to Will, the more his scent deepens and the more Hannibal’s hunger grows. It wraps around him and takes hold of his tie, edging him closer, _closer_ , like a vice he cannot resist, Will so easily pulls him into his orbit. When Will slowly turns away and offers Hannibal his shoulder and the delicate nape of his nap, it only instigates the man further, forcing him to step so close that he can feel the heat that radiates from Will’s back intermingling with his own chest. Even through several layers of clothing, the temptation to step towards Will’s heat is maddening. He can smell Will’s shampoo, evaporated rain water, a new, and much more pleasant aftershave. Hannibal doesn’t stop until there is merely a hair’s width space between them. Not quite touching, though it holds all the intimacy of doing so.

“You are encouraging me to invade your space,” he speaks softly, breath ghosting across Will’s soft curls.

“You wouldn’t be invading if I consented.”

“That could be a mistake on your part.” Hannibal responds, and Will turns his head to face him, the movement just enough for his ear to brush against the tip of Hannibal’s nose.

Their faces are too close for comfort, Will terrified about all he’s going to reveal in his gaze if he stares at Hannibal like this for too long, secrets kept hidden within the depth of his very irises, but he refuses to look away -- to admit defeat.

Sometimes he loathes his pig-headedness.

“Should I succeed, I would like you dressed appropriately for our evening. I will not ask you to shave, though how you currently wear your hair is acceptable.” Hannibal eyes the sheen of gel in Will’s brown locks, how they hold down his wild curls yet continue on free towards the nape of his neck, gingerly framing his pale, pretty skin. He adores the simple curl which deviates from the rest and sits lazily against Will’s forehead. “A three piece suit is necessary. New shoes, as well as a matching tie. Perhaps even silver lapels? I would typically advise gold, but the coolness of the sterling would greatly complement the warmth of your skin.”

Will scoffs. “We don’t share similar wardrobe styles, Hannibal.”

“Then you will let me purchase them for you. Fully tailored, color design of my choosing as well.”

He rolls his eyes. “Of course you would be one to propose we play dress up.”

“A minor extension to the game we have already begun.”

Will quips a brow. “Is the reward finally worth the peril?”

Hannibal merely smiles, and the sincerity of it shocks Will. If only the younger man knew that it is truly no effort for Hannibal to get on his knees for him.

“Will you allow me to refill your glass?”

“I have to drive home after this. Surely you can make do with what’s available, Hannibal.”

Hannibal wets his lips, slowly bringing a hand up to rest against the curve of Will’s waist, dipping his head until his lips align with Will’s ear. He does it partly for his own selfish desire, but mostly to test Will on his folly, to see how long it takes until the man writhes away.

“And what are your boundaries, Will? There are many ways I can accomplish this task.” He accentuates it by fanning his fingers out and gingerly pressing against the junctures of his ribs, a teasing pressure until he finally smoothes his hand down and settles it against Will’s hip, thumbing at the belt loop. It makes Will’s breath quicken. He can’t resist imagining Hannibal pressing down with increasing pressure onto his ribcage, the pressure mounting until the bone splinters apart under his skin, jagged and rough and utterly agonizing. He knows what those hands are capable of, and yet, he does not move away.

“I expected you to make a game of trying to discover it. Not just cop out and ask.”

There is a bite to Will’s words, but Hannibal can hear the trepidation behind it, how his voice wavers from Hannibal’s continued close proximity. He can smell the faintest traces of perspiration already forming on Will’s skin, and Hannibal revels in that realization. For a man who is so touch starved, it is endearing how difficult Will handles even the simplest forms of human contact. It makes him all the more curious about the origin of this suggestion.

Hannibal cannot resist continuing to push, and the high from their game is so exhilitaring that he’s starting to grow impatient. Such a novel feeling, to want and have trouble containing himself, how Will continues to succeed in pulling unorthodox responses from him. He bring his hand over to cup at Will’s cheek, welcomes the heat that emanates from the skin and tilts him just enough to further intensify their shared gaze. For someone who finds eye contact distracting, Will proves his resilience and meets Hannibal head on, brows furrowed in concentration.

Hannibal glances down at Will’s cherry red lips, scents the lingering aroma of wine from his breath. He leans in closer, smells the earth and smoke of Will’s being that rises from his very core, and he can’t help but lose himself in that roguish gaze, the need to finally lean in and _taste_ \--

“No.”

Hannibal immediately stops, and Will’s lips are maddeningly close to his own. Hannibal is shocked from how terribly he aches to lean in, though he stays as he is, pleased to know Will even allowed him this close.

Will stares back at him, daring.

“You haven’t earned that.”

At that, Will steps away from Hannibal’s space, the air suddenly chilled without Will cohabiting it with him. He makes his way back to Hannibal’s desk, leaning his weight against it and taking a long, easy drink of his wine. He crosses his legs together, hand steadying his balance against the very edge. He disregards Hannibal, and it only makes the man’s teeth itch, his appetite growing. How his precious boy continues to tease him.

There is a beat where Hannibal just stands there, and Will continues to drink his wine, exhaling slow and easy. Hannibal sees right through him though, and can hear Will’s raging heart even from their current distance.

“Your window of opportunity is closing, Doctor Lecter.”

Hannibal’s eyes shine with mirth. “You will not allow a kiss, however you invite my lips below your belt.” he states, and immediately he watches the faint twitch of Will’s bottom lip.

“Your lips have been nowhere near my belt.”

“There is beauty in anticipation. The period leading to the ripening of fruit are often the most rewarding. It tells of sweeter days that are sure to come.”

“I’m not sweet,” Will bites, and Hannibal stalks back towards him, hands reaching out to tug on his belt, pulling Will closer. Will lets him, and Hannibal now moves with purpose, undoing Will’s belt and pulling the worn down leather from its loops. He makes a show of teasing the metal buckle until it rattles, movements unhurried and purposely lax as he let’s Will’s anticipation grow.

“Even the most acidic of fruits can be sweet, Will. There are a select few which have a distinctively sugary taste, yet contain bromelain, an enzyme which digests protein.” Will gasps as Hannibal pulls his slacks down to his mid thigh, and his eyes go wide when Hannibal finally slips down to his knees.

“I wonder if you will do the same, when I finally place you on my tongue.”  

He cups Will’s bulge with his palm and slowly begins to massage at the flesh, coaxing it into hardness as he presses kisses onto the exposed skin over the elastic of his briefs. He pushes Will’s shirt up and noses against the coarse hair that’s grown there, breathing in his heady scent and feeling greedy from its proximity. Hannibal’s nose and lips trail down to ghost over Will’s clothed groin and he inhales deeply, letting Will’s scent fill his lungs and settle into his very body, taking in his natural musk until he lets it all out into a staggered, rough breath.

He glances up at Will and is met with a stoic expression, the younger man returning his wine to his lips. As calm as Will tries to present himself, his bright blue eyes fail to hide just how intensely this scene is already affecting him, pupils blown out wide from this shift in dynamic. He swirls his wine once again, taking a calculated sip.

“Maybe this is a lesson to stop offering me such good wine,” Will says.

Hannibal smirks. “I will continue to offer you nothing but the best, dear Will.”

With that, he tugs down at the elastic of Will’s briefs, tucks it underneath his balls and is overcome by the plethora of Will’s dark scent. Hannibal shuts his eyes and grips tightly at Will’s thigh, letting out a pleased hum as he surrounds himself in Will’s goodness. He takes a moment to simply bask in it, take in Will’s raw scent and let his delirium build. It is a divine moment, akin to the first time one steps into the Sistine Chapel or partakes in Holy Eucharist-- accepts the body and blood of the Son of God. Except here, Hannibal is no beggar sitting at the feet of Christ, here he kneels for his beloved Will, his _tesoro,_ who drives him to utter madness and stares at him so apathetically while he does so. It is dizzying, and Hannibal lets his lips wander across Will’s lower belly, pressing worshipping kisses and whispering words of endearment.

When he can finally regain his breath, Hannibal leans in close to slip Will into his mouth, eager to feel his member fatten against his tongue and fill him. Suddenly, Hannibal is overcome by the reality of this, how Will has not only given him agency to offer him pleasure, but has ultimately presented him with access to his body, and all of the indulgences that comes with. How he so easily shies away from basic touch and yet permits Hannibal to savor his taste, to let his hands wander across the vulnerable skin of his thighs, groin and belly. His cunning, manipulative boy, enticing him with a trap that Hannibal is too tempted to resist. It should horrify him, knowing he’s falling so easily into Will’s ploy, and yet he is gladly diving into the freefall. He is curious how this will all end.

Surely with his beloved clothed in a tailored suit of his choosing.

Will exhales a soft gasp from above him, and Hannibal brings a hand over to cup at Will’s firm ass, erasing all distance between them as he swallows the man whole. Will’s reaction is precious as he watches himself disappear into Hannibal’s mouth, mesmerized by the way Hannibal hollows out his cheeks and swallows him down until the pleasure becomes blinding. He bites his bottom lip until the skin breaks, his eyes piercing and engrossed as he stares down at Hannibal. Hannibal is eager to erase the last of Will’s composure, and he makes a show of sucking Will from base to tip, letting his cock fall from his lips with a low _pop_ as his tongue rubs underneath Will’s frenulum, coaxing more sweet precome out from his slit and greedily swallowing it back down.

He listens to Will’s breath hitch and meets his eyes, amused by the way Will so casually continues to swirl his wine, mindful of how much liquid remains in his glass. He presses supple kisses up the length of Will’s cock, never breaking eye contact. He watches Will’s chest rise, appreciates the lone trail of sweat that trickles down his neck, and oh, how he would love to taste that later as well, though he is skeptical Will would allow him so close to the delicate skin of his throat. He catches the edge of his teeth against the thick vein at the underside of Will’s cock, and is pleased when the man jolts in response, body reacting to the minor pain with visceral pleasure.

“I am on my knees for you, Will.” Hannibal whispers, reverence in his voice.

Will’s eyes darken at the implication, and Hannibal swallows him down again, his nose burying into Will’s pubic hair. Will moans so loudly that he nearly drops his glass, and it would be an understatement if Hannibal said that amused him. As he slips Will into his throat and swallows, he can hear the clink of glass against the table, Will bringing his once occupied hand to cradle at the back of Hannibal’s head, ruining his neatly parted hair as his nails dig into Hannibal’s skull, a welcomed pressure. As Hannibal glances up, Will is sinking his teeth into the meat of his palm, desperate to muffle his sweet moans as if to deny how good this actually feels.

Hannibal immediately reaches up and grabs at his wrist, grip firm as he forces it back down.

“Don’t.” he says as he pulls Will’s hand away, gaze burning. “I want to hear you.”

Will sighs as the saliva on his cock cools against the air, a cunning smirk re-emerging on his lips. “I didn’t know you were in a position to make orders.”

Hannibal perks an eyebrow, bringing his hand to stroke at Will’s cock, not allowing for his building pleasure to subside. “You have allowed such a vulnerable part of yourself in between the jaws of a predator. Surely you should not be adverse to mere suggestions.”

Will laughs, a daring sound. “You won’t bite,” he tests.

“Do you really trust me not to?”

“I don’t have to trust you. You’re too selfish to sabotage a plan that could reap future rewards.”

He won’t admit that Will’s right. “If I recall, this plan was your choice.”

“Yeah, and you’re losing if you don’t hurry.”

Hannibal watches Will reach back for his glass and returns his lips to the sensitive skin of his head, tongue laving and causing Will’s thighs to tremble. He doesn’t stop this time, presses lip, tongue, and cheek to Will’s length, finds the sensitive patch of nerves at the underside of his cock and greedily sucks kisses until Will is practically doubling over. Will’s pants fill the room and Hannibal plays him like an instrument, patient as he pulls all sorts of wondrous sounds from Will’s lips.

It is difficult to see Will’s face in this position, though he imagines them in another time, perhaps in their very own lifetime. He thinks of Will sprawled into bed, how the sunlight would filter from their bedroom window in Florence and soak into his sleep warmed skin. The sharp jut of his jaw sinking back into his pillow, hiding his face as he permits Hannibal to explore the fine lines of his body. He wonders if his beloved would moan as he does now, let his voice carry in their bedroom as it does in his office, or if he would tease Hannibal with sweet sighs and gasps, a mere breath compared to the pleasure-drunk moans Hannibal knows he’s capable of.

Hannibal slips Will’s entire length into his mouth and brings a hand over to massage his balls, and he can hear the hitch in Will’s voice, can smell the blood rushing to the edge of his skin as he approaches the precipice. Hannibal is certain Will’s cheeks and ears are vibrant and red, and he wonders how far that blush of his goes, wishes to drag his teeth across each patch of color just to watch him squirm and admire the strokes of roseate across his pale skin.

Hannibal hollows out his cheeks and he feel’s Will’s hand against his shoulder, firm as he attempts to press him away.

“Hannibal --” he gasps, and Hannibal can’t resist moaning in response, overcome by the sound of Will’s wrecked voice, imagining that very voice sing as he squirms into their pleasure soaked sheets. Curls tousled like a framed halo, sweat slicked skin gleaming against the light, skin unabashed with love marks. The fantasy twists at Hannibal’s chest and he forces himself back into the present, desperate to see Will’s face as his breathing intensifies and his body goes rigid. As he glances up, he is met with bared teeth and wild eyes.

“Get off,” Will grits, bringing a hand up to twist into Hannibal’s hair, trying to yank him back, “I’m, I’m gonna --”

Hannibal refuses. He lets his hair be pulled, takes amusement from Will’s rudeness and grips his hips so tight that his short nails press red crescents into the man’s skin. It’s too much, and he feels Will shake around him, Will’s voice a crescendo in his office until he finally becomes a victim to his own body. Hannibal strains his head back to watch Will’s face contort, the way his brows furrow together, how his teeth-bitten lips part when he moans. He can see Will’s veins straining against his neck, and Hannibal has never seen anything more beautiful than Will unabashedly taking ownership of his pleasure.

Hannibal swallows down Will’s come greedily, working his throat around the head and pulling more sweet sounds from the man’s lips. He coaxes the fluid out, slips his lips from base to tip until Will is spilling against his tongue, the heavy taste of his seed appetizing to Hannibal’s refined diet. Hannibal is overcome, his entire body thrumming with the smell, feel, and _taste_ of Will Graham, a fatal combination as the man’s essence flows through his body, another form in which the two are united. Hannibal is uncertain if he’ll even eat tonight, it would be a waste to replace Will’s taste from his palate so quickly.

Even when he finally pulls his lips away, Hannibal brings a steady hand and wraps it around Will’s wet base, smiling at the way Will jolts from the continued stimulation. Hannibal eases him through the aftershocks of his orgasm, and gives him firm, steady strokes, greedy to take the last bit Will has to offer. He intentionally tilt’s Will’s cock down and strokes him from base to tip, satisfied when the man gives one last pathetic spurt, purposely missing his mouth to watch the fluid soak into the lapel of his coat jacket. When Will has finished, pressing his full weight against Hannibal’s desk to keep himself steady, breath heavy and ragged as he struggles to return to himself, Hannibal presses one last kiss to his softening member and tucks him back into his boxers, pulling his slacks up and redoing his belt.

When he rises from his knees, he watches Will ruffle at his sweaty curls, immediately offering Hannibal a pointed glare.

“You don’t have to look so smug about it.”

Oh, but he does. Hannibal stands there for a moment, comfortable under the heat of Will’s stare until he watches the man’s eyes trail down to his coat, immediately noticing the mark that is steadily deepening.

Will brings a hand over to the stain, digging his thumb in to rub the mess into the expensive material.

“It’s going to stain,” he states, and Hannibal couldn’t be more pleased.

“Yes,” he answers calmly, voice fond. “I’m sure it will.”

Will rolls his eyes. “For someone who is so meticulous about his outfit choices, I’d expect  you to be a little more miffed.”

“Not at all,” Hannibal answers, “This will be quite the reminder of our session today.”

“Dinner won’t be enough?” Will asks, eyeing at his glass of wine. A small portion of wine has settled low in Will’s glass, though it is enough to admit defeat to. Will takes it into his hand to finish the last bit of it, his breathing still harsh. “You’re ravenous, Doctor Lecter.”

Hannibal can only smirk. “I have quite the appetite, beloved Will.”

**Author's Note:**

> To anyone who noticed, yes: title is totally from the song Hotel California. I have no idea why it was on repeat while I was writing but it worked lol. 
> 
> If you enjoyed, please consider leaving a comment/kudos on your way out! This was definitely a challenge since I'm not accustomed to writing for this fandom, but some positive reinforcement would be much appreciated <3
> 
> Here is my [tumblr](http://badbrooklynbitch.tumblr.com/) c: I love making new friends!!


End file.
